


It's Who We Are (Doesn't Matter If We've Gone Too Far)

by whoknowsyourfuture



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Elias is not going to have a good time, Everybody Lives, Fix-It, Gen, I binged TMA in a month and now I have two wips for it, Nonbinary OC Main Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22708228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoknowsyourfuture/pseuds/whoknowsyourfuture
Summary: Elias is not as subtle as he thinks he is. And this time, when another Entity takes notice of his manipulations, well. It's avatar knows quite a bit about belonging to a fear god through no choice of your own, and if they can't stop the Beholding, they'll at least put a kink or ten in Elias's plans.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	1. Job Interview

**Author's Note:**

> So, between pitviperofdoom and captainkirkk on tumblr, I finally got dragged into the TMA fandom, and loved every minute of it. I've got another TMA fic in the works that popped into my head even earlier, but I just started writing dialogue for this and here we are. Hope you enjoy!

Someone new entered the Magnus Institute. This was not in and of itself uncommon, as the Institute constantly received new statement givers and outside researchers. What _was_ uncommon was the individual. They were quite tall, and muscled in the way of people who use said muscle, not seek it for show. They were dressed smartly, in a black three-piece suit with a teal button down shirt peaking from their lapel. Their pale hair was pulled into a neat bun, the swirl of which revealed fragments of color deep in the center. Their skin was tanned lightly, and if you examined their hands closely, you might notice neatly cut nails and thick calluses in equal measure. They walked with the easy confidence of someone who belonged and with the purpose of someone who knew where they were going. 

“Rosie, is it? I have an appointment with Jonah.” The secretary looked up from her computer, startled.

“I don’t know that we have any Jonah’s working here?” she surreptitiously pulled up a directory of employees on her computer. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I meant Elias. Terribly forgetful of me. Would you mind just giving him a ring? I’m sure he’s expecting me.” Rosie looked uncertain, but picked up her phone and dialed anyways. 

“Of course, just a moment. Mr. Bouchard, there’s someone here to speak with you? Oh, yes, of course.” She put the phone down and glanced at the stranger. “He said to go on through.” 

“Thank you Rosie.” The stranger smiled cordially and stepped past her desk towards the door of Elias’s office.

  
“You’re welcome?”  Rosie said to the thin air in front of her desk, which was somehow now both lighter and emptier than it had been before.

* * *

  
The stranger and the head of the Magnus Archives sat,  staring at each other, with a desk and a thick silence separating them. 

“So, Mr. Bouchard. I hear you need a bodyguard for your Archives.” The stranger broke the silence with a quiet, conspiratorial smile. 

“I don’t know where you would have heard that. And who was it you said you were?” Elias, although trying not to show it, was bristling.

“I didn’t. And lets just say, I’ve heard some whispers among some… powerful individuals that perhaps noses are getting stuck in areas that they aren’t welcome. Wouldn’t want them getting cut off. Prematurely, at least.” The stranger’s smile grew.

  
“And why should I hire you, even provided your… compelling point towards having such a position?” He tapped a pen against his desk, irritated.

“Well, it allows you a fraction more control, doesn’t it? I would think that was something you relish. It’s no skin off my nose if you don’t. I’ll just have to dip into my savings a bit if you decide not to get it on paper.” The stranger seemed immune to the death glare their words provoked.

“So determined. It brings up the question of why you would be so altruistic, if that’s what it is.” Elias seethed.

“And doesn’t that _burn_ , that you don’t just Know. That you have to find out the old-fashioned way, like the rest of us.” 

“Given your insinuations, perhaps you can relate, as I’m not sure how you could know some of the things you claim to understand.” 

“Oh, I have my ways.” The stranger leaned back, smile somehow even wider.

“I’m sure. Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have someone more… physical on our team. That aspect is a touch… lacking,” Elias said venomously. 

  
“Well, people can’t be perfect. No matter how you try and make them  s o.”  They said sweetly.

“Quite. I assume you know your way to the Archives.”

“Certainly. But perhaps they would appreciate some verification from their employer that I’m legitimate. Can’t just have people swanning in claiming to work for the Institute when they don’t, after all.”

“After you, then.”

“Such a gentleman. Too bad I’m no lady.”

* * *

Elias knocked on the door to an office in the Archives, then opened it.

“Jon, if I could have a moment of your time.”

“What is it, Elias? Did someone else come crying to you that I’m not being lovely enough?” The speaker was a small, dark man, who looked irritated enough to have had an entire pot of boiling tea dumped on him, rather than being interrupted.

“Well. In a manner of speaking. But no, I’ve come to introduce a new employee.” Elias smiled, gesturing towards the stranger.

“Good morning, Mr. Sims. I’m Gem Nomic. It’s nice to meet you.” They stepped forward, extending a hand to shake. Jon shook it awkwardly, dropping it quickly.

“Ah, you as well, I suppose. Elias, not that I’m turning down the extra help, but I thought you were quite firm on how much manpower you were giving me.”

“Well, Mr. Nomic was quite… convincing in his interview, you might say.” Elias said, with teeth determinedly not gritting.

“Mx., if you don’t mind, and they/them for pronouns.” Gem butted in pleasantly.

“Quite. Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.” Elias turned to leave.

“Thank you for escorting me down, Mr. Bouchard. Have a nice day,” Gem said, almost sincerely.

“Mmm. Jon,” he said in farewell, and left.

“Well, I suppose Elias hired you for a reason, but I don’t know what your experience is myself, so would you mind explaining your background a bit, Mx. Nomic?” Jon asked.

“Oh, I’ve done a little bit of just about everything. I’m sure I’ll become able to do whatever necessary. And it’s Gem, please,” they said.

“Alright. Well, we’re trying to get the archives in some semblance of order, while also following up on statements as necessary. And, well, we’re also dealing with a bit of a worm problem at the moment,” he said.

“Like that one there?” Gem pointed to a silvery worm crawling towards Jon.

“What- Urgh! Goddamn it!” Jon stomped on the worm. “Excuse me a moment. Martin! Martin, where did you put the rest of the extinguishers? Oh, for-” his voice faded as he traveled into the Archives. As soon as he was out of sight, two burly men in delivery uniforms opened the door.

“’scuse us.”

“Looking for the Archivist.”

“I’m sure. He’s occupied at the moment, gentlemen. And I suggest you finish your delivery quickly. I work here now, after all. We wouldn’t want to be at odds.” They smiled, just a little bit wider than normal.

“So, you picked a side then?”

“Wouldn’t’ve expected that, so soon.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say I’ve picked a side, necessarily. But, I suppose, I _have_ picked the sides I’m not on.” Their smile widened.

“Fair enough. Well, anyways.”

“Package for Jonathan Sims.”

“We’ll just leave it with you.”

“Be sure he gets it.”

“Certainly. Give my regards, will you?” They took the package, still with the eerily wide smile.

“’course. Much obliged.”

“Won’t tell _you_ to stay safe.”

“Your recorder’s on, by the way.”

“I know.”

“Don’t want to change that?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

“Alright then.”

“Won’t be seein’ you.”

“Likewise, I hope,” they said, finally clicking the recorder off.


	2. Getting To Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new hire in the Archives is quite mysterious. How will the Archivist and his assistants react to them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I probably should sit on this a bit and check my editing again, but this is a bit later than I had intended to post this, so. HMU for anything weird you see that needs correcting. Virtual cookies for anyone who can guess why I'm pushing updates forward, for this fic specifically... :D

“Don’t you think they’re kind of… weird?” Martin asked hesitantly. Sasha and Tim were the only ones in the Archives proper with him. Jon was in his office and Gem was in Artifact Storage, following up on a statement about a pipe that had supposed hypnotic properties.

“We’re all weird here, Martin. Besides, you’re literally living in the Archives. Pot, Kettle much?” Tim quipped back, feet up on his desk.

“Look, I have a reason to be here all the time! They’re here before I wake up, and they never leave before Jon does. It’s just _weird._ Beyond that I just- I get a weird feeling off them, is all,” Martin said defensively.

“Maybe you want to shag our lovely new coworker,” Tim said. Suggestively.

Martin spluttered. “Wha- No! I-”

“ _I_ do,” Tim leered. “They could bench press me, I bet. They might even be able to bench press you, if you’re into that.”

Martin was very, _very_ red.

“Stop bothering Martin with your irrepressible sex drive, Tim. He is an innocent child, let him pine for Jon in peace,” Sasha teased.

“Can we just drop the subject? _Please?_ ” Martin asked plaintively.

“Alright, alright. But seriously, I’m sure they’re perfectly normal. For here, at least,” Tim said.

“What is it that bugs you about them, Martin?” Sasha asked.

“… it’s stupid, really.”

“What is?”

“They just- fit in! They just walked in, got whatever job it is that they won’t come out and say, and everything just- _works!_ Anything we ask them to do, they can, no explanation needed, no questions about any of the little fiddly bits- nothing! I just- it’s _weird,”_ Martin finished, frustrated.

“You’re absolutely right Martin. Their level of competence is completely unheard of in the Archives and in the paranormal community in general,” Tim said.

“That’s not what I meant! I-”

“I was being sarcastic Martin, calm down. Still, unusually high competence isn’t that weird, really. Are you sure you just aren’t used to them yet?” Tim asked.

“I don’t know. I guess that might be it. Sorry, I just- erugh.”

“It’s fine, Martin. You have the most reason to be wary of change right now. Maybe once we get these worms sorted out and everything goes back to normal, Gem’ll stop seeming as weird,” Sasha reassured him.

“Maybe. I’ll get over it.” When neither Tim nor Sasha looked convinced, he said more firmly, “It’s fine.”

* * *

“So, what did you do before this?” Sasha asked Gem, stopping by their desk.

“Freelance work.”

“… for what?”

“Oh, a lot of things. Nothing particularly interesting, unfortunately. Thought this would be a change of pace,” Gem said casually, shuffling through a stack of files.

“Well, I doubt you had to worry about murderous worms for your last job!” Sasha laughed.

“No, I didn’t. But I did have some work in entomology a few years back. It certainly felt like everything we worked with wanted us dead,” Gem said wryly.

“Well, I can’t imagine most bugs enjoy being studied,” Sasha grinned.

“Most of the bugs were fine. It was the people who didn’t like us.”

“… I thought you said you were working in entomology?”

“Yeah, people get real weird when you tell them bugs are essential parts of pretty much every ecosystem and they can’t kill every insect ever. And people have a real hard time differentiating between insects and arachnids, apparently,” Gem mused.

“Ah. Well, Jon was wanting some research done on Joel Baker’s statement. You want to handle it?”

“Sure, does he have the file?” Gem asked, standing up.

“Yeah, and what information we have already.”

“I’ll go talk to him then. See you.”

“Right, you too.”

* * *

Just as Jon was wrapping up digitizing a statement, Gem knocked at his office door.

“Come in.”

Gem cracked the door open and poked their head in. “Jon, I’ve got the research you asked for on Joel Baker’s statement. Where do you want it?”

“Oh, er, I’ll take it now. Are you sure you got everything? It’s only been, what, two, three hours?” he asked, slightly dubious.

“Two hours and thirty-seven minutes. It wasn’t that complicated to look into. As far as I found, it’s a perfectly normal case of carbon monoxide poisoning. I’ve already linked those to the digital file as well. Is there anything else you needed?” they asked, stepping into the room and handing him the file.

“No, no, that’s all for now,” Gem nodded and turned to leave, before Jon spoke again. “If you don’t mind me asking, how _are_ you so adept at all of this? You’ve not been working here for a week yet, but you seem as comfortable with our system as if you’d been working here for decades.”

“I’m a quick learner and I adapt easily.” Gem laughed at the expression that garnered. “Seriously, though, it’s not all that complex. Try digging through over a hundred scientific articles trying to find one sentence that you read a year and a half ago, which is the exact reference you need for the project you’re working on. And your project is due in seven hours, but you can’t even remember the journal you read it in.”

“That’s… oddly specific.”

“Somehow, that’s happened to me more than once. There’s a rhythm to research, and I just happen to follow it easier than most,” they said, shrugging.

“Fair enough. Well, however you do it, you’re very good at digging into the statements. So, thank you, I suppose,” he said, opening the file they had handed him.

“Oh, I’m just doing my job. Might spread the gratitude around a bit though, moral’s a bit low with all the worms. Creepy little things,” Gem shuddered.

“Yes, well.”

“See you later Jon. Just yell if you need anything.”

* * *

“So, Gem. Having any fun here in London yet?” Tim asked, perching on the edge of their desk.

“Well, I’ve enjoyed my work here so far, if that’s what you mean,” they said, quirking an eyebrow.

“I was thinking more after work sort of things. Been to any clubs?” he asked, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

“I’m not much for clubs, honestly. Too impartial for me,” they said, shaking their head.

“Sooooooooo, have you made any friends yet? Anything more… serious?” Tim pressed.

“No, I’m afraid I’m the terrible combination of workaholic and homebody. Doesn’t lend itself well to socialization,” they said wryly.

“What about back home? Still in contact with people there?” he continued, leaning closer to them.

“No, I’ve been bouncing around too much the past few years to put down many roots,” they finally took their hands off of the keyboard, leaning back in their chair. They folded one leg over the other and laced their fingers together on one knee.

“Are you thinking about putting… _r_ _oot_ _s_ down here?” Tim asked with a suggestive smile.

“I’m always open to it. Just haven’t found the right spot yet, I guess,” they said, face determinedly smooth but with a sparkle in their eye that said they knew exactly what Tim was trying to get across.

“Well, if you want to try and find your right spot, give me a shout yeah? I can show you the nightlife here in London, or we can… stay in.” Tim took a final, slightly desperate swing.

“… I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

* * *

“Tell me again, I want it on tape.”

“I don’t have a problem reiterating my statement, Jon. But I’ve already written it down and told you _twice_ ,” Gem sighed, rubbing the bridge of their nose.

“I just want a record. To make sure I have something I can check.” Jon said, just slightly plaintive. He was gripping the tape recorder as though it would tell him the secret to life, or at least the mystery he was currently interested in.

“Alright then. There were two men, Breekon and Hope. They were massive, wore overalls and flat caps. Cockney accents like bad actors in the U.S. put on. They had a package for you and I accepted it,” Gem said, tone flat.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. They were here for five minutes, tops. Not exactly enough time to get their life stories,” they said sarcastically.

“Fine. What about the table?”

“I didn’t see it when it came in. Went and saw it a couple of days ago. It did remind me of a statement I read recently,” they mused.

“Amy Patel’s statement?”

“No, Lawrence Moore. It involved an Adelard Dekker.” Jon looked shocked, then eager. “I’ll see if I can find it for you.”

“Yes, I would appreciate it if you would,” he said, removing his glasses and cleaning them.

“Will you wait to do anything with the table until I can find it? I’m pretty sure it was a weird statement, and, well. I don’t get the feeling that we should do anything to harm the table,” Gem said, standing up to leave.

“Elias said the exact opposite, you know.”

“Well, Elias and I don’t always see eye to eye. It’s up to you, unless he’s telling you to?” they asked,

“No, luckily it was phrased as advice rather than an instruction, so for now I’m more inclined to keep studying it. We’re not in the business of destroying knowledge. Especially since you’ve found it mentioned in another statement.” Jon nodded at them.

“Right. I’ll go try and track that down. See you later.”

“… Waste of tape, really.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention before, but some dialogue is taken directly from TMA transcripts, as I'm sure you guessed, so all credit for that goes directly to Jonny Sims and Rusty Quill. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Night everyone.


	3. Getting To Know All About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some answers. More questions.

Tim, Gem, Sasha, and Martin were all sitting at their desks, struggling to find even the smallest of details on Andre Ramao. Abruptly, Tim pushed his chair back from his desk and stood up, grabbing his phone.

“We’re getting nowhere fast with this. Anyone want Chinese?” he asked.

“Are we allowed to have food in the Archives?” Martin asked tentatively.

“It’s almost ten, Martin. At this point, I don’t really care what’s allowed or not,” Tim said, scrolling through the nearby options before letting out a triumphant noise.

“When it gets here we’ll take fifteen minutes and eat in the break room, alright?” Sasha reassured Martin, also standing up from her desk.

“… Alright. Where are you ordering from?” Martin asked, giving in.

“New Culture Revolution. Who wants what?” Tim asked, already putting in his order.

“Chicken Chao Mian, please,” Martin said.

“Three Treasures and egg fried rice for me,” Sasha answered.

“I don’t suppose they have Szechuan chow mein, do they?” Gem asked, looking vaguely hopeful.

“No, not there I don’t think. They’ve got Revolution Choice or beef with sha-cha spices?” Tim answered, slightly apologetic.

“Eh, it’s fine. Not feeling like trying something completely new. They have Kung Pao Chicken?” Gem asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll get that then.”

“Right, I’ll get that ordered. Might ask Jon if he wants anything,” Tim mused.

“You sure?” Sasha asked doubtfully.

“Right, better to ask forgiveness. I’ll just order for him then,” Tim grinned.

“Your funeral. Get him something spicy,” Sasha suggested. Tim nodded, heading out of the Archives. The rest of the group began to migrate towards the break room.

“Sorry they didn’t have what you wanted,” Sasha said.

“It’s not your fault. Besides, it’s mostly just become a habit to ask, now. It was my mom’s favorite thing at the Chinese restaurant we always went to for my birthday growing up. Funny thing is, I never really had it, it was mostly a lunch special, and when we had the money to go there for lunch I was little and always had grilled cheese. By the time I would’ve had it, we really only went there for special dinners and got a family meal, which it wasn’t included in. Course, the restaurant closed when I was seventeen. Never quite found Chinese that measured up to it since,” Gem mused.

“That’s literally the most I’ve ever heard you talk about yourself, Gem,” Sasha said in awe.

“Oh, sorry. Just tired, and I tend to overshare when I don’t watch myself,” Gem scratched their head sheepishly.

“No, it’s fine. I think we all want to know some more about you. You’re pretty mysterious, you know,” Sasha joked.

“Oh, there’s not much secret about me. You just have to come at it from the right angle,” Gem smiled.

“Right, what’d I miss?” Tim asked, entering the break room carrying several bags of food, Jon trailing along behind him.

“Gem going on a mini tangent about the Chinese food of her childhood. So, if it’s just the right angle, have we not been asking the right questions?” Sasha asked slyly as she grabbed her food from Tim.

“Part that and part trying not to overshare for once in my life,”Gem grimaced, accepting their food.

“Well, we want to know about you, so don’t worry about that,” Tim interjected.

“Alright, what do you want? A game of twenty Questions?” Gem asked, half exasperated, half laughing.

“Sounds good!” Sasha and Tim chimed. Martin looked slightly alarmed, and Jon looked as though he was reassessing the maturity levels of everyone in the room.

Gem huffed a laugh. “Well, if I’m getting grilled, I won’t be the only one. How about I ask a question about anyone who asks me one?”

“Really, we do have work to be doing-” Jon started.

“Oh come on, Jon. You can’t tell me you aren’t curious about our newest member of the Archives. Besides, we’re well past work hours. We’re all staying and helping so you won’t not-sleep in the Archives. Again. Or, you know, this _entire_ week,” Sasha said meaningfully.

He huffed. “Fine.”

“Alright Gem, first question. Are you seeing anyone?” Tim asked, to no one’s surprise.

“You might want to rephrase that question Tim. I do have eyes, which function well, and I am in this room with you all. So, technically, yes, I am seeing all of you,” Gem said, grinning.

“I deserved that. Fine. Are you dating anyone, married, something along those lines?” He rephrased.

“No, I’m not,” they allowed.

“Finally, a straight answer!” Tim exclaimed.

“No, I’m quite queer,” came their rebuttal.

“Do you like dad jokes or something?”Tim asked, exasperated.

“Technically, you owe me three answers now, Tim. But yes, I have a small, secret fondness for dad jokes. It’s the puns, mostly,” they grinned broadly.

“Fine, ask away then,” Tim moaned melodramatically.

“Mmm, I think I’ll save them for later,” Gem said, smiling.

“No fair!” Tim whined.

“Nothing was ever said about when questions had to be asked and answered, Tim. Should’ve set up more guidelines before we started,” they said, singsong.

“I’m guessing you played a lot of board games when you were younger, then. Particularly Cluedo, I’m guessing,” Sasha said carefully.

“Yeah, we call it Clue in the states though. I was pretty good at it. Never as good as the time I was teaching my freshman roommate and another friend how to play it and our friend managed to get it right in one turn, though,” Gem finished, reminiscent.

“Wait, what? Where are you from?” Martin asked, startled.

“The United States. Isn’t it obvious?” they asked, confused.

“No!” Martin exclaimed.

“I thought the accent would’ve given it away,” Gem said, surprised.

“You don’t have an American accent?” Martin asked, bewildered.

“Well not like most people think. I’m not from the south, or the north-east, or California. Seems like those are the accents everyone expects,” they said wryly.

“No, I mean you sound like you’re from Brixton!” Martin exclaimed.

“Oh. My apartment’s there. Hadn’t realized I was mimicking already,” they said, obviously paying attention to how they sounded.

“Mimicking?” Tim asked.

“Yeah, I slip into accents. Don’t notice it anymore, half the time. Managed an Irish-Canadian accent once in college. Don’t ask me how, I still don’t know,” Gem laughed.

“Wait, wait, we’re getting way off track here. Don’t get me wrong, these tangents are interesting, but we don’t even know where you’re from, exactly,” Jon butted in, exasperated.

“Oh, a small town in Washington state. One of the very few that people don’t manage to mispronounce. Seriously, Spokane has an international airport and is the only vaguely major city on the east side of the state, and yet, on more than one occasion I have heard it pronounced ‘Spo-cane’ instead of ‘Spo-can’. Wenatchee is pretty bad too. ‘When-a-chi’ is probably the least mangled of the variations I’ve heard,” they groused.

“Well. I don’t suppose you have as strong of opinions about how to pronounce where you went to university,”Jon said.

“Nah, seems like in Arizona everyone knew how to say the towns okay. Unless the town was named in Spanish. Goodness knows you can’t even get white people to season their Mexican food accurately. Except for Prescott. It either rhymed with mascot or biscuit and even the locals couldn’t come to a consensus,” they said, with the long-suffering cheerfulness of someone who actually enjoys pedantic arguments over pronunciation. This was a complete turn around from their previous attitude.

“What did you major in then? Elias still hasn’t seen fit to forward your resume or employment record,” Jon persisted in getting any information from Gem.

“Well, he _does_ enjoy his little secrets. I actually majored in Forensic Biology. Gave me a nice spread on science, the law, and all the lovely little ways the American legal system will screw you over.” At this, their smile grew a few more teeth. Teeth which were almost _sharper_ than moments before.

“And that’s why you moved here?” Jon asked.

“No, I’ve just been bouncing around jobs, trying to find something I really enjoy. Always wanted to at least visit the U.K., so when this opportunity came up, I leapt at the chance,” they shrugged.

“Wait, I thought-” Jon was cut off by a phone ringing.

“I’ll go grab that, shall I? I’ll ask my questions another time,” Gem smiled, exiting the break room, dumping their empty takeaway box in the trash as they left.

“For all that they said, we really didn’t learn all that much about them, did we?” Tim asked.

“No. No we did not.” Jon said quietly.

* * *

“Thanks for grabbing lunch with me. Martin and Sasha can’t really stand anything near the level of spicy I like, and trying to get Jon to leave for lunch is worse than trying to pull his teeth, remove his appendix, and bathe a cat all at once,” Tim told Gem as they walked into the Archives.

“Well, he’s very focused on his responsibilities. Can’t be all bad. He probably needs an intervention in regards to his work-life balance, though I don’t have a leg to stand on there,” Gem finished sheepishly.

“He didn’t leave the Archives for three days straight this week. How bad can you have been?” Tim asked, laughing.

“I didn’t leave a lab for ten hours straight trying to get a dilution to work,” they said flatly.

“How is that bad?” he asked.

“No food, water, or bathroom breaks. Also, it was going _really_ badly. A minimum of three days a week were like that for a solid _month,_ ” they said, shaking their head.

“Christ, what did you do that for?” Tim asked, surprised.

“I was trying to pass Ochem.”

“Fair. That’s weird.”

“What?”

“The tape recorder’s on the ground. Looks like it’s still working…”

“Tim, Gem, look out!”

“Sasha?”

“Behind you, RUN!”

“d̵̩̭̗̣̯͇̥̞̫̕ͅo̷͕͉̠͈͓̠͔̲̕̕͢ͅ ̵̛̩̜̗͓͇̪̯̞͕͘͠y̡̟̻̭̩͎̖̯͎͎̯̬̻͔̼̹̕͟͢͡O̸҉̶̡̥̭̤̰͕̮̻̞͚̤̤͙̻͖̗̫̬ự̷̜̱̥̱͝ͅ ̧̰̯̤̙̲͎̼̻̩̜̤̞̹͈͇̲͟͝h̸̺̱̫͕̳̣̼͇̫͖̙̟̻̜͢E̢̢̕͏̣̩̪͚̻̦̲̭a̴̱̝̬͕͈̪͚̝͞R͏҉̵̫̻͙̪̹̱̙̟͚̻̼̞̮̺̦͖͜ͅ ҉͞͏̢͚̪͕͔̯͍̩͖t̡̛̟̰̲̞̪̼͔͉̗͖̠̫̯̯̖̟̙h̵̵̤͚͈̱̮̖͎̦̻̬̬͍͔͎̮͔̫͡E̷̴̟̖͖̭̮̣̰̳̺͓̕i̴̢̢͍͕̱͟͞ṟ̗̻̙͙͎͓͖̬̝̗̖͢ ̛̳̲͖̥͓̙̯̘̙̲͞ͅs̶̱̝͍͈͕̣̙̰̗͖̬̤̟̲̯̲̮O̸̢̬̠̥̣̥͉̳̺͓̱̪͇̟̜͎͘n̴̷̦͖̳̹̬͇͞͞ͅG̵̵̵̴̲̰̞̳̙̫̼͔̲̟͈̙̳̝͍̥͔̳͟?͏̶͔͇͙̹̺̜̞̫̥ ”

“TIM!”

“Damn it!”

click

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Sorry, this was supposed to be out March 9th in honor of the Worm Moon, but then my family happened. 
> 
> Took some lines from the TMA transcripts again, all credit to them. Also, all I know about New Culture Revolution came from about 30 minutes online, so if something's wrong, let me know.
> 
> Ugh, my spacing on my fics is really bugging meeeeeeeee. But the easiest way to change it would be to not have a space between each line on my main document and that bugs me and I have a harder time proofing. Anyone have an opinion on spacing fics on AO3?
> 
> I most likely won't be posting anything else new through the end of March, beginning of April. Got to focus on my piece for MuffinLance's Li's Book of Friends, of which you can find updates and more information on her tumblr. Also, I have my piece for FandomTrumpsHate 2020, which I'm super excited to actually start writing! 
> 
> Oh, and as you have probably guessed, next chapter will involve Worms. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Alright then! Hit me up in the comments or at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/whoknowsyourfuture. Don't know when the next chapter will be up. If you like this, I've got another WIP posted for ATLA, which will have another chapter going up shortly. Thanks for reading!


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